Midnight
by PortiaBennet
Summary: Victorian Era Au. As a widower, Nellie Evans wants nothing more than to see her daughters married off to respectable men. However problems arise when a particular gentleman just happens to fall in love with the wrong daughter.
1. Chapter 1

Evansdale in the winter was never quite the same. Unlike the spring of blooming flowers and birth, or the refreshing autumn signalling a cool change from summers heady glow; winter was inconsistent. Each year brought new patterns of rainfall, nothing ran like clockwork, and problems arose daily on the fields of harvest. Since its construction in 1813, the winters of Evansdale had always been difficult, but none more so than the struggle of 1847.

* * *

With her husband, Master Evans passing the previous December, Nellie was desperate to find her two noble daughters respectable suitors. Nellie Evans adored the prospect of being a grandmother, when it meant unlike those women down the road, she had created the ideal children. With generation upon generation of youthful brides, successful businessmen and gentle breeding, Nellie was nothing if not proud of her lineage, and planned to continue living the Victorian dream. Her Lenora and Petunia were wonderful. Both alike in gentle stature, the girls carried their fathers' incandescent blue eyes and their mothers' affinity for tea. Apart from that, the two were extremely different. Petunia Jane Evans was the eldest, seventeen years in age to be exact, of the two and practised the fine arts of elegance and grace. Oftentimes she practised swooning and being the _perfect_ wife. Her father had always said that even the wicked Queen Mab could not overcome Petunia's propriety, even in the weakened dream world state. Day after day, Petunia would affix her golden corkscrew curls atop her head, say grace and glance longingly over at Mr Vernon Dursley's estate. At any mention of 'the common-folk" she would stiffen and refuse to speak until conversation retained the rightful path. To Petunia there was nothing beyond the walls of aristocracy, corruption did not exist and there was only one way to live: the right way.

The lovely Lenora Astley, was at the innocent age of fifteen and desired herself to be in love at the drop of a hat. A passing smile from a gentleman left Lenora giggling and proclaiming herself as the new Mrs Handsome Stranger. Though short lived, all of her loves were of extreme importance and resulted in Lenora mourning their loss. Unlike Petunia, she was very plain and cared naught for marrying the wealthiest of lords. All Lenora wanted was to be happy, and to be happy was to have a good husband and fine children – at least, that s what her mother had always said. Her long blonde hair was often tangled as a result of the marvellous adventures she took in secluded passageways or dark enchanting forests. She adored discovering secrets and solving mysteries, much to her mother and sisters dismay.

Most peculiar of all, was neither Petunia Jane nor Lenora Astley, but indeed the fourth member of the household – the enchanting Lily Evans – the maid.

Found outside Evansdale on her third birthday, Lily was rescued by the Evans in accordance with good Nellie's habit of comforting those in need. She drew the sobbing child to her ample bosom, comforting both, and promised to house the orphan in return for a lifetime of assistance around the ivy covered manor.

At first, Nellie's socialite friends scoffed, "Why she is naught but common trash, look at that awful ginger hair, cast her aside at once".

But Nellie had stood by her decision. "Lily will make a fine companion once my girls have gone off. I shan't dispose of such a lovely creature when I have found one so willing. Lenora adores her, and breeding aside the two could pass for sisters. Though unclaimed by the aristocratic who is to say that the Lord God did not deliver me a third child in the most unusual of ways? There is nothing Nellie Evans is more famous for than striking the fear of God into the morally restricted.

Soon Lily, much like the sunflowers in spring, began to blossom. Everyone who encountered her was charmed, and that is where the problems first began; the aristocratic adoring common Lily Evans.


	2. Chapter 2

On the eve of her twenty-ninth birthday celebration, Nellie arranged an encounter with James Potter, the son of a recognised Thane of England, in hopes of securing a marital arrangement. With Petunia currently courted by Mr Dursley, this proposal was directed at Lenora. Needless to say, Mrs Evans was frantic in trying to tame her free spirit of a child. So long as Lenora played the part of a traditional English lady until the marriage was binding, what did it matter if Mr Potter never grew to love his wife? Love was reserved for the written word, a cause of complication, not relevant in the slightest in ordinary life. Love was like magic, far better in the imagination.

Afraid of Lenora seeming unpleasant, Nellie hatched a brilliant plan to gauge her daughters' reaction to James without being present. Lenora would sit patiently in her room, while her mother would make conversation as Lily periodically entered to serve tea and scones. Lily would then relay the information to her, after all, no one knew Lenora better than Lily did; the two were the best of friends. Petunia agreed to take no part in this deceptive meeting, choosing an outing with her lover instead, believing the maid had no purpose in such personal matters; no right to step away from her expected duties. Nellie insisted that Lily would indeed fulfil her duties: serving tea to guests and providing assistance to her superiors, but Petunia remained disgruntled.

Perched upon her dresser, Lenora erupted into fits of giggles as Lily chastised her behaviour and appearance. Despite Lily's pleading, Lenora would not silence her fanciful love declarations, nor would she dress in her gown for tomorrow's ball.

"Oh Lily, I should never dare wear a party dress before the party! Tuney would surely scoff at the common nonsense you indulge in! What horror. Just this once, would you wear it for me? The deep purple shall look ever so lovely on you."

Lily pursed her lips and continued to pull the wildflowers from Lenora's tangled hair.

"You know I must protest this foolish desire Lenora. Whatever would mother think?"

"Oh hush Lily, mother adores you; besides how can you resist an order _servant girl_" Lenora mocked in a voice remarkably similar to Petunia's. Both maid and noble daughter filled the room with laughter, a blend of melodious sound.

The arrival of Mr James Potter at four hours past noon on that fateful day caused a stirring in the manor. Chefs bustled in the kitchen, carefully brewing the perfect pot of jasmine tea, gardeners raked away the leaves and uncertainty and maids swept both dust and secrets under the rugs. The clip-clop of horseshoes on the stone driveway awoke Lenora from her imaginings and caused slight panic. In mere minutes, Lily would meet the love of her life, still modelling the young Miss Evans' new dress, rather than her own maid outfit. Though she did not know it, not just yet.

As the doorbell rang, a sweeping chime that washed through the entire manor, Lily began to panic. There was no time for delay, not a moment to remove the purple bodice, or unlace the borrowed corset underneath and replace the materials of elegance with a plain dark dress. Though a forbidden prospect, a maid greeting a guest in the gown of a noble, there was a slim chance that this misguided act would go unnoticed. With Petunia elsewhere, and Mrs Evans otherwise occupied (with partial thanks to the wine in her morning chamomile brew) this could remain a secret between Lenora and Lily; an accident taken to the grave.

After taking a deep breath, Lily took the silver tray, laden with tea-cakes and fine china, and strolled into the dining room. It appeared, as if by magic, that James and Nellie were so deep in conversation, they did not hear her approach.

"Oh Mr Potter, you tell such stories! How is it that no woman has swooped you up yet? I have half a mind to do so myself" Nellie flirted shamelessly.

"Pardon my abruptness, but I find that a majority of women lack the sophistication I desire. I fear I am too easily bored with the dithering simpletons that parade themselves in front of me, unable to distinguish between a Quaffle and an iron, things untaught at etiquette school. I am a rather impressive man, and take a lot to be impressed." He replied curtly. Lily fumed silently; it must be _so _difficult being the only son of a famous Lord, having life handed to him on a silver platter. What thrill was there when everything was attainable? James longed for what he could have, though at that moment nothing fit into that category. Not just yet.

Nellie had begun to sweat something fierce; James was a complicated young man, who scowled even at praise... and dear Lord _what on Earth _was a Quaffle? How had she foolishly allowed her daughters into the world with nary a thought on such things? How could James be persuaded to wed Lenora, when h could barely be persuaded to sit down? She feared this was a lost cause, and her last daughter would be doomed to a life as a miserable spinster. Lily saw the misery in Nellie's glazed over eyes (how peculiar that they did not notice her attire!) and hoped a spot of tea would remedy the situation.

This action caught James' eye and he glanced at the tea-bearing hands. He fell in love first with those gloved hands that cradled the china and lay down serviettes. Those delicate hands he knew would fit perfectly in his. Next he noticed her hair, not an ordinary auburn but the colour of fire. Every strand blazed one thousand times brighter than he could've imagined, as they fell down the tea-bearers shoulders, caressing her back. He was mesmerised by this angel, before she had even uttered a word. Swathed in royal purple silks, imported directly from Italy no doubt, he prayed to Merlin _let this be Lenora. _Looking into her eyes, James was stunned. They were not the predicted blue – what was Mrs Evans harping on about – by a clear emerald green. The eyes of one kissed by magic, though he did not realise it yet. Instead he saw only what he desired, the mesmerising angel, who had surely locked gazes with him; as though it was an admittance of love.

After she had finished serving, Lily left in great haste, stumbling over her jittering feet. What would she tell Lenora? The news would leave her shattered. How could Lily deliver the news that this pompous buffoon was not the charming prince Lenora envisioned to be after her heart? His arrogant smirk still lingered in her mind.

Yet, there was something more still. Something deeper stirred within Lily, an unknown feeling that caused her stomach to flutter. If it were typical disdain, like the kind she felt for Vernon, it would be easy to quell these emotions, but that was decidedly not so. There was something about James Potter that left her flustered, riled up and all the while, wanting more.

Lily shook her head aghast. Dear lord, what was wrong with her?


	3. Chapter 3

Back in the dining room, James pondered over the best way to string together his question. The matter could not be taken lightly; this was to be remembered as the day he proposed. Witch Weekly would surely have a field day, to lose such an eligible bachelor, to a Muggle family no doubt, yet this Lenora, she was worth it.

"Dear woman, pray tell me, was that your youngest that entered previously?"

Left shaken by James' previous, monotonous comments, Nellie was unprepared for the sudden joviality in his voice. "Ay, she is the youngest, and least experienced, but has been with our family a long time."

James was positively ecstatic, so the fair creature had been Lenora. "It seems we have come to an arrangement. On Monday next, I shall take your youngest daughter to St Peters chapel and make her a happy bride."

Nellie resisted the urge to weep with joy; she was still flustered by the sudden swing in James' emotions. "Do you not wish to meet her first? I intended on inviting you to the ball in honour of my twenty-ninth tomorrow, so arrangements could be finalised." Briefly, he wondered if she was mentally imbalanced, not the least for deluding herself into thinking she was twenty-nine, but for forgetting that her daughter had illuminated the room not five minutes prior. He had surely not forgotten, and most likely never would.

Still, he retained his aristocratic manners and politely stated, "That will not be necessary m'lady; I have already encountered your daughter and was delighted by her excelling beauty." This revelation confused Nellie further and led her to wondering whether he was mentally imbalanced, not the least for deluding himself into thinking Quaffle was a real word, but for imagining visitations.

"I will go fetch her at once, so you may tell her the news" Nellie beamed nonetheless, retracing Lily's steps out into the hallway, in pursuit of her newly engaged daughter. She found the two girls upstairs; Lily dressed appropriately this time, and summoned them both immediately. Unfortunately this prevented Lily from relaying her views on the arrogant Mr Potter.

Bursting with anticipation, Lenora launched herself into the room, with the intent of dazzling James. Lily trudged sourly behind; sorely disappointed she had the misfortune of meeting him twice. More so, that she was not nearly disappointed as she ought to have been.

"Lenora, this is Mr James Potter," Mrs Evans said proudly, gesturing in his general direction. "Mr Potter, once again, this is my daughter" she added pushing Lenora forward. His furrowed brows lowered in confusion, why was his fiancée leaning against the wall, dressed like a common maid? Why was this other child addressed as his Lenora?

"I suppose I should introduce the two of you as well, very well then. Meet our most beloved maid, Lily."

Maid. Lily. The words crashed like bludgers upon James' head, he had agreed to marry the wrong lady, and his love was a house servant. Oh Sirius would mock him surely, proclaiming him a hop, skip and a jump away from wedding a house elf. Oh cruel fates, what wickedness! What sin had he committed to be punished so? He was tempted with an angel and had her snatched from his fingertips and replaced with a mortal substitute. How could he be made to pursue a simple star, one of millions, when the sun was right in front of him?

Mrs Evans gasped aloud; she two had pieced together the unfortunate puzzle. Only Lenora was oblivious to the happenings, the conversation transmitted through wary glances. The spacious room appeared crowded with four occupants and awkward airs. It was too late now; James could hardly deny marrying Lenora, there was no perceivable way that he could be with Lily. Not just yet.

"Well madam, I must take my leave. I accept your gracious invitation for tomorrow's merry-makings. Farewell Lenora, I would be delighted if you reserved the first dance for me; good bye other girl, perhaps another coat of polish is necessary on the door handles." Placing the top hat, which had previously rested in his lap, atop his wind-swept hair, Mr Potter climbed into his carriage and rode away with the intention of never returning. He was unaware that his every waking moment would be plagued by Evansdale, by his mistake, by Lily.

"Oh mother, is it not wonderful? Such a handsome man wants to make me his bride! I can hardly wait to tell Petunia, she shall be ever so pleased; we are both marrying such gentlemen. I wish father were her, he would be so proud. I think I shall visit the tomb and tell him the news." Lenora was glowing with childlike pride and affection, so much so that it hurt Nellie to witness. Her poor darling girl would be so devastated once the truth came out, a devastation that not even a mother's embrace could resolve. There was only one thing Nellie could do, and as a mother, it was her duty to do so. She would bury this secret deep underground and silence those who sought to revive it. When Lenora had danced her way into the yard, Nellie placed a firm grip upon Lily's arm.

"Mother, please..." Lily began

"For thirteen years I have housed you, for which I have had little cause to regret. Until this night. You are not my daughter, yet I accepted you, and so shall not send you onto the streets, so long as you stay in line. I saw the way James had eyes only for you, not for my Lenora, I care not if you too feel this way. I am ordering you to forget this encounter. James and Lenora will be married; do not try to prevent this Lily."

"Good madam, I treasure Lenora above all else, and would never willingly inflict pain upon her. I have no desire for Mr Potter, not that it would matter considering he is of noble breeding, and I a peasant, he made that all too clear when he insulted my polishing skills." Lily said quickly. Nellie let a small smile escape, before retreating to her room.

Lily was infuriated, how dare he mistake her for Lenora? How dare he con Lenora into falling for her? How dare he speak ill of the bronzed door handles she had worked tirelessly on all morning. The most peculiar thing was that at every glance, the door handles seemed to gleam brighter and brighter. That ignorant man that had weaselled his way into her head (_how dare he!_) was strikingly becoming unforgettable. Damn him to hell.


	4. Chapter 4

As she skipped to the Evans' chapel, whistling a merry tune, Lenora sprinkled the cobblestones with flower petals. A path of pink, yellow and white followed her from home. Was it not perfect when love was realised? She could hardly contain her joy as she knelt down to speak to her beloved father.

"Father, if only you could see him. James Potter is everything you wanted for me: handsome, secure, wealthy and smart; I am the luckiest girl in all of England, no, in the world. I know for sure the hours until the wedding will be the longest moments of my life, each second apart an agonising eternity. I must away; I need to practice my waltz for I know tomorrow shall be spent gracing the dance floor in the arms of my love. You always did enjoy mothers' twenty-ninth celebrations, this would be the fifth anniversary, though the first in your absence."

Arising from her place among the petals, by the marble mausoleum, Lenora brushed the dirt from her blue day dress and tied, with ribbon, her hair into a bun. She was no longer a naive child, she was now betrothed and it was time Lenora did away with dolls, and became a woman. Perhaps she would even take up the elegant practise of smoking cigarettes. With the artistic rings of smoke drawn from her freshly painted lips, no one would doubt she deserved to stand by James Potter's side.

Wandering towards the house, Lenora noticed a haughty looking woman, leaning against a mighty oak, twirling an odd stick in her gloveless hands.

"Excuse me; are you here for tomorrow's ball?" Lenora called out cheerfully.

The woman drew her lips together tightly, a frightening look in her eye, "Actually m'dear, I'm after a man."

"My eldest sister Petunia would say that we all are. Only, she has one now. A man that is, his name is Vernon Dursley, perhaps you have met him? He lives just over the lake. I have one two, did you know?"

"A lake?" the haughty woman questioned impatiently, she had no time for this child's game.

"Goodness no! A man, the most remarkable of gentlemen. He is the Thane's son, James..."

"Potter" snarled the woman. Lenora began to grow sick with fright; the woman was getting closer now, still twiddling the stick in the palm of her hand. Lenora mumbled words about hearing her mother calling, and turned to run home. Yet before she could make it further, a red light flashed, darkness over-washed her, and Bellatrix Lestrange smiled.

Back in the manor, Lily scrubbed at the mahogany floors, leaving not a hint of James' footsteps. She fancied that removing all signs of his visit would remove his presence from Evansdale entirely. The silence in the lower hallway reminded Lily of how isolated she was. The Evans' were upstairs - well at least Petunia and Nellie were, it appeared that Lenora was off exploring again – pampering themselves in preparation for the morrow's festivals; the other servants were in the basement talking of rotten potatoes or stubborn topiaries. She had no right to involve herself with either party; forbidden above, for her lack of class, distrusted below for her preferential treatment. In a world of rigid social structures, Lily belonged to no specific class and was often left amiss for this reason. The time alone was not all in vain, for she was able to delve into a world of her own; a world of words and witchcraft and wonder. Lily often imagined she could set things alight with her mind, knew that she would fly before fall and could leave people dazed with a single glance. It was remarkable how much time she had to think and reflect on nonsensical things without the demand to be beautiful or the rush of chores.

A small rapping of knuckles on the door interrupted her ponderings, and before she could welcome the stranger a letter slid underneath. The cursive was undeterminable thus far, but the name and seal the envelope bore were all too similar. Lily's eyes flickered about the room, no one was present; she hastily stuffed the letter into the waistline of her skirt, careful to cover it with her apron. On she went with her chores, before attaining pardon from her mistress and retiring to her small room. She struck a match against the wall and was mesmerised for a moment by the brilliant flame, before pressing it to the candlewick. An orb of light dissuaded the atmosphere of loss the black room usually possessed. Her fingers fumbled over buttons in her urge to hold the letter. It was nearly half-nine, all the other household occupants would be locked in Morpheus' realm until daybreak, making this the perfect chance for Lily to read her letter from James Potter.

The roaring crash of thunder startled Lily, causing her to drop the envelope. She had never been fond of storms; they were an unsettlement in an otherwise relaxed utopia. With an intake of breath, Lily drew an ingrained courage and tore open the envelope, revealing the parchment containing only twelve tormenting words.

_Lily,_

_Meet me by the lake at midnight_

_Come alone_

_James Potter_

What nerve he had, trying to dangle both girls off a string, like a puppeteer! Lily would show him. He had no knowledge of her sharp tongue, wit and impatience; though in the hours soon to come that would all change. Therein lay her reasoning for mentally complying with this foolish request. It was to tell the fool off, not to swoon and collapse in his arms (or so she hoped). She scrunched the parchment beneath her fingers, with the intent of lobbing the ball across the room, before a better idea sparked in her mind. Smoothing out the creases, Lily dangled the dreaded note over the naked flame, and watched as it became alight. The words burnt away, leaving only a small pile of ash. Sighing contently at the sight, she sat upon her bed, deciding to rest for a few hours, and blew the candle out.


	5. Chapter 5

The world outside was quiet, as Lily drew her emerald shawl about her shaking arms. The moon hung lazily over the oak trees, doing little to illuminate the frozen lake, so it was rather fortunate that she clenched a lantern in her left hand. James had not discerned upon a meeting place, and so she had to let her imagination guide her, wandering the grounds by chance. The heavy rains that tore open the sky had left her quite soaked, yet in the heat of the moment she did not feel a drop. However, the path became all the more dangerous and Lily felt herself begin to slip. A pair of firm, masculine hands grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her to her feet.

"Are you alright?" James whispered, hands sweeping down her back, dangerously low, leaving Lily blushing profusely.

"Mr Potter, _what_ do you think you are playing at?" She turned to face him, a scowl already permeating from her face. Above, the lightning cracked loudly, as if in compliance with her ill-temper.

"Just assessing the damage, that was quite a stumble you took. I would not wish you to be permanently injured, good help, much like a good woman, is hard to find." There he went again, interchanging between a charming gentleman and an arrogant fool.

"Speaking of good women, where is your unfortunate bride to be? Should you not be harassing her?" Lily bit back, emitting a small sigh from James.

"Ah Lenora, she is rather excitable, much like a jittery animal, still..."

"How dare you insult Lenora, why she is ten times more remarkable than you will ever be. She is passionate, respectful and honest, traits that you will never possess. You are nothing but an imbecile; you were given financial status and respect, though apparently you do not deserve them. I pity you, for I may just be a maid, but at least I am capable of compassion, you are hollow and unable to ever love." Her chest rose and fell with every short breath taken in attempts of regaining control. But fanning the flames only made the fire grow hotter, for each breath brought Lily closer to James and soon they were pressed against each other.

"Unable to ever love?" he repeated slowly, looking down into her green eyes, "then what do you call this?"

* * *

The world outside was quiet, as Lenora held back the raking sobs that threatened to consume her. Again and again the haughty girl – Bellatrix, someone had called her – brandished her wicked branch causing jets of light to burst through Lenora's body. She doubled over in pain, unaware of her surroundings, unaware of what was going on, why she was here.

"P-Please just let me go." Lenora whispered her blue eyes wide with fright. "My mother has money, we will give you whatever you need, and just let me go home."

"Silence Muggle" Bellatrix shouted, and Lenora found herself unable to speak out. Clearly, the woman was capable of devilish sorcery, the kind Nellie Evans feared. Bellatrix and her motley crew of companions – a thin blonde woman, a rat-like man and an awful, menacing hulk by the name of Rosier – continued questioning the poor fifteen year old. They left her bruised and battered, all because of an article in a made up periodical (for who had ever heard of Witch Weekly) that said James Potter was to wed a Muggle.

* * *

"You do not love me James Potter, for we have hardly met." She insisted breathlessly.

"Then how would you describe this, if not love? You are an enchantress, willing your wicked eyes to haunt me. Every moment they burn deep into my mind and fill me with regret, regret that I was cursed to love what I can never have." He turned to leave, yet found that Lily had rooted him in place.

"Do not go, not just yet. Will you stay and talk a while?"

Together they sat, beneath a beech tree, in companionable silence. Lily half suspected that he had dozed off, while she attempted to compose herself. Questions barged through her mind. He loved her? How was that possible? What about Lenora? Most importantly, _how did she feel about him?_ Though full of bitter contempt at the situation he placed her in, Lily could not bring herself to despise James. There was something about him, a tiny glow left in the burnt out embers that warmed her. There was his obvious beauty, his intelligence and his words, oh how she loved his words, but that was not it. There was this inexplicable part of him that left her unable to feel anything other than, for lack of better word, love.

"What do I feel if this is not love?"

"But if it is love, God, what thing is this?" He added with a small grin.

"I was not aware you knew of Petrarch." She smiled amusedly to which he scoffed half-heartedly.

"I am trained in the art of woo-ing, fair maiden; I can recite poetry of all accords. Chaucer, Coleridge, Keats, any of their words will do."

"And of other poets, good sir" Lily teased

"Well they need not exist, for therein lies my limitations as a Romantic." James laughed back.

It was nice, sitting together in amused airs, embracing the frivolity of midnight. For once Lily did not have duties to attend to and James had no expectations to fulfil. This night was beautiful.

* * *

This night was pain.

Agony seared through Lenora's hunched frame one last time, before her captors set her down. They had discovered she knew quite a lot less about James Potter than his true bride ought to, and after stealing the girl's memory had determined another visit to Evansdale was in order.

Bellatrix smiled once more, a frightening smirk that Lenora would envision in her regular nightmares, before wiping her mind clean.

* * *

The rain soon turned to torrential downpour, forcing the pair to hurry away before the storm made fools of them. Lily clasped James' hand in her own, as the two bolted through the heart of the storm, becoming drenched in the process. They took shelter by the manors arched doorway. Lily's room was only a staircase away, once they had passed through the kitchens, which, if fate was kind would be deserted. Opening the door an inch, cringing slightly at its creak, Lily peered into the room. They both let out a sigh of relief and thanked the stars; the room had been abandoned. Tiptoeing through the shadows, they approached the grand stair case.

"How do you feel about the polishing now, Mr Potter?" She bantered; receiving a gentle shove.

"It is magical..." He stared at her, with wide eyes. James hurried her along, and Lily sensing his urgency to talk alone, increased her pace.

With a soft thud, the bedroom door closed behind the pair; creating a sanctuary free of rules and regulations, a beautiful place for the lovers to be. They stood apart with an awkward air encasing the occupants of the room.

James began, "Lily, do not take this the wrong way, but you are a witch"

She sighed, "And here I was thinking that we were offering each other our undiluted affections." James ran a hand through his unruly, sopping hair.

"No, I mean, you possess magical powers. I do too! I really ought to have noticed it before, what I assumed was Aphrodite's glow upon your shoulders, was the faint glimmer of untrained magic. Look at how you shine Lily, your hair glorious as sun beams, you lips two rose petals, and those green eyes; eyes that could change the world. You are extraordinary."

He began to explain softly about the Wizarding world, about Muggleborn witches and Hogwarts. James told Lily of his brothers: the Marauders, of spells and enchantments. Slowly she became immersed, slowly she began to believe.

"Such strange stories you speak of, Mr Potter. I wonder where you find the time to compose such fleeting fancies"

"Only in the few vacancies of thoughts not consumed by you."

Seized by an uncontrollable surge of affections, Lily moved in, as though she would seal the distance with a kiss, but faltered in her resolution. With lips mere millimetres away, she realised this move was not hers to make. His warm breath mingled with hers, before she stepped nimbly backwards. If a kiss was to be stolen, James would be the thief.

"Goodnight Potter" she whispered, chuckling as he groaned.

"Oh, you really are a witch, in every sense of the word" He stated with faux-agony. She pressed a simple kiss to his cheek, and bid him farewell, until the morn.

As he climbed out the window, he muttered a soft, "good night Lily" and disappeared into the night.

**A.N. I don't think that I ever included a disclaimer, so here it is: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters. **

**Reviews would be nice...**


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